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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26666323">Catalyst</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfteam000/pseuds/wolfteam000'>wolfteam000</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>A mix of book; show and game canon, Angst, Character Death, Character Study, Eventual Merihart ship, F/F, F/M, Gen, Multi, Slow Burn, character study of Philippa spanning from her novice days all the way to TW3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 12:08:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,403</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26666323</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfteam000/pseuds/wolfteam000</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Peace through war; change through control; order through chaos,” she mused. “You always were ambitious. But ambition is a lonely path to take. They will try to cut you down but you will do whatever needs to be done and you will bear it with quiet determination and dignified strength; you will bear it for humanity, for the greater good."</p><p>-</p><p>A character study of Philippa over the course of her life and the lessons learned along the way.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Philippa Eilhart &amp; Tissaia de Vries, Philippa Eilhart &amp; Triss Merigold, Philippa Eilhart/Triss Merigold</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>21</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Purpose</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Massive thanks to finiarel for all her help with the Witcher lore, especially because I haven't finished the books yet.</p><p>This is a character study of Philippa, which I've taken a lot of artistic license with, especially with Philippa's early years, but essentially it focuses on how and why Philippa becomes the person she is in the books/games. I didn't want people to take a very one-dimensional approach to her character and simply see her as a cruel, heartless and manipulative schemer. I think she's a bit misunderstood and I wanted to explore the factors and circumstances and complexities to the character. As such, I do skip out on a lot of the general stuff like learning to control her chaos or her childhood years and instead diving straight into the more formative parts (or at least in respect of the people and events that she encounters). Anyway, established canon characters may not come into play until quite a bit later because that's around 300 years of skipping around to go through (maybe not quite all 300 years but you get the idea). It's going to be a fairly fragmented read but I hope to try to tie everything together in a more coherent flow.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>“It’s true that all that you know is all that you are. You said that it’s all that you want and more.” – Stay</em>
</p><p>
  <em> <span class="u">Year 982</span> </em>
</p><p>Philippa had never been particularly well liked by her fellow students at Aretuza – she was too cold and aloof, but only because she had such a tight leash on her emotions, to control the chaos that threatened to spill over at every turn; she was too quiet and disinterested, but only because she could understand a person’s nature, to see through their façade simply through observation and reliance on her intuition; she was too arrogant, but only because she was sure and confident of her capabilities, a product of natural talent and hard work.</p><p>It certainly did not help that she was constantly being held up as a model student by their Rectoress, even if Tissaia did not explicitly play favourites. If anything, she treated Philippa even more harshly, pushed her harder because she recognised Philippa’s abilities and ambitious nature.</p><p>“What is it that you truly want?”</p><p>Philippa brushed an errant strand of hair from her face, chest heaving from the exertion. She had been trying to master the art of polymorphism under Tissaia’s tutelage with little progress. Despite all the additional reading and one on one training sessions, Philippa had not been able to tap into the hidden vast of magic that she knew was locked away within her. Try as she may, she could not draw enough magic to do anything but send a faint buzzing through her veins. It was almost as if there was an invisible barrier denying her access, resisting her every attempt to break through.</p><p>“What do you mean?” She asked breathlessly.</p><p>“Every girl at Aretuza wants to become a sorceress,” Tissaia said as she circled her student slowly, seemingly sizing her up. “Those who desire power and wealth and status will most likely than not strive to become court mages, and those with a thirst for knowledge tend to become scholars and academics. Those with a particular interest or talent in certain specialties may even choose to pursue careers in that direction, such as healing or divination.” She stopped in front of Philippa with an inquisitive expression on her face, hands moving to clasp behind her back. “You have infinite potential to achieve anything you set your mind to. So tell me, what is it that you want?”</p><p>Philippa let out a short, humourless huff of laughter between her gasps for air. Tissaia stared at her and waited.</p><p>“The answer is simple. I want to be the royal adviser of Redania.” Philippa wet her lips and continued after a beat. “I want to be one of the most powerful sorceresses in the Continent.”</p><p>Tissaia regarded her with a pensive expression and a tilt of her head, the corners of her lips quirking upwards slightly.</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>The way she asked it gave Philippa reason to pause.</p><p>Why <em>did</em> she want those things?</p><p>It was not a shallow desire for the superficial and material. Then was it for self-fulfilment? But what did that say about her self-worth if she needed the validation?</p><p>And Philippa didn’t have an answer. But Tissaia was still looking at her expectantly and Philippa rearranged her face carefully into a blank expression, injecting a deliberate amount of haughtiness in her tone.</p><p>“Does it matter?”</p><p>“It does if you do not know the answer.”</p><p>Something flitted across Tissaia’s face before being smoothed over immediately, but Philippa could see it in the dip of her shoulders as she exhaled deeply, could hear it in the dismissive finality of her words.</p><p>Disappointment was a foreign feeling to Philippa and she had not expected it to sting quite so much.</p><p>Tissaia had always harboured high expectations towards her, expectations that seemed to rise with every achievement, with every failure, always within reach but never within grasp. But never had Philippa truly <em>disappointed</em> her – not when she had burned herself when she had messed up a simple incantation, not when she had allowed her chaos to spiral out of control along with her temper, not when she was trying so hard and yet failing to master polymorphism – yet this simple question was her undoing and it was irony at its cruellest.</p>
<hr/><p>“So, what <em>is </em>it that you want?”</p><p>Philippa stared at the languid figure lounging on her bed.</p><p>“You’re messing up the sheets.”</p><p>“Answer the question, Phil,” Daris flopped back onto the bed, stretching slowly and deliberately in an exaggerated motion, mussing up Philippa’s sheets even more. She waggled her eyebrows at Philippa, grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Tell me your hopes and dreams, your fears and desires. Oh, tell me your <em>deepest</em>, <em>darkest</em> <em>secret</em>.”</p><p>Philippa was almost sure Daris could see the vein throbbing at her temple – maybe she just wanted to see her blood vessel burst.</p><p>“I’ve just told you. Have you not listened to a word I’ve just said?” Philippa snapped irritably even though she knew Daris was purposefully winding her up.</p><p>Plopping her boot clad feet on Philippa’s desk and nearly knocking over the inkwell, Daris leaned back against the wall, arms folded behind her head, ignoring the glare sent her way.</p><p>“Ah, such lofty aspirations,” she drawled mockingly before her tone turned playful. “Me? I think I’d like to travel. Maybe I could be a travelling magician.”</p><p>Philippa resisted the urge to roll her eyes; Daris was not only born with the latent gift of divination, being particularly adept at oneiromancy, she was also greatly talented with magic, being able to master every spell and pass every test with flying colours with utmost ease without having to try at all; it drove Philippa crazy. Daris was in every way her equal and also the exact opposite of Philippa – she was loud and carefree and vibrant, quick to make friends yet quick to anger – but it was a certain wildness and carelessness that had captivated Philippa.</p><p>What had started as a one-sided rivalry had evolved into a whirlwind romance, equal parts fierily passionate and violently volatile. So alike yet so different; perhaps that had been the reason they had gravitated towards one another so quickly, two stars colliding and burning so brightly that Philippa had unwittingly allowed herself to become wholly consumed by the flames until it was too late and there was nothing left. Perhaps that had been why their romantic relationship had been short lived – both too stubborn to compromise; both too possessive to shake off the feelings of jealousy to develop any trust; both too proud to say what had needed to be said.</p><p>But despite it all, they had remained friends - with the occasional benefit - and that was the only reason Philippa had not thrown her out the window for trampling all over her room and being such an irritating idiot.</p><p>“Where will you go when you graduate next month?”</p><p>“Darling, do you miss me already?”</p><p>“Stop deflecting. You’ve been doing that a lot lately.”</p><p>Daris’ smirk flickered for a second before growing wider.</p><p>“All the better to drive you insane. It’s <em>so</em> much fun.”</p><p>Philippa shoved Daris’ feet off the table. Daris placed them back up again with a grin.</p><p>“I have no concrete plans. I’ll go wherever, whenever. You know me, I won’t be tied down.”</p><p>The freedom was enviable – no responsibilities, no worries – but it was not a life Philippa could ever imagine herself living. There just had to be more to life than all this.</p><p>But then again, what was it that she really wanted?</p><p>Philippa still had no answer to the question.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em> <span class="u">Year 985 </span> </em>
</p><p>The hall erupted into rapturous applause when Tissaia finished her lecture on polymorphism. A few of the more enthusiastic students crowded around her with questions, jostling Philippa out of the way. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes at the adoration being showered upon her mentor, Philippa started collecting Tissaia’s notes and books.</p><p>She had still yet to master polymorphism but the depth of her magical powers had grown exponentially through her gruelling training, even if she still could not access the reserve of magic tucked away at her core. The barrier remained resilient as ever, unyielding no matter how hard she tried to break through.</p><p>It didn’t matter how much effort she exerted or how long she trained, it didn’t matter how many books she poured over day and night – there was something missing and she couldn’t figure it out.</p><p>And so she had accompanied Tissaia on this short trip in the hopes that perhaps something could inspire her. So far the only one doing any inspiring was Tissaia herself and that was of no use to Philippa.</p><p>There was a small commotion as an approaching figure caused the crowd of students to move aside respectfully.</p><p>Despite being heads shorter, Gerhart of Aelle grasped Tissaia at the elbows with a kind smile.</p><p>“Tissaia, thank you so much for coming. That was a splendid lecture. You really should visit Ban Ard more often. My boys would benefit greatly from your wisdom.”</p><p>Tissaia gave him a fond smile. “And I could say the same for you. Perhaps a lecture on the history of the Aen Elle when you visit Aretuza?”</p><p>“I think we can arrange for that to happen sometime soon,” Gerhart laughed heartily. “And is this your apprentice?”</p><p>“Yes. Philippa has been assisting me with her research on-”</p><p>“Ah, so this is Philippa Eilhart,” Gerhart interrupted and turned his attention to the young sorceress. “I’ve heard so much about you, my dear. Tissaia speaks so highly of you.”</p><p>Philippa indicated her head respectfully, unsure how to react to the information. Beside her, Tissaia had the strangest expression on her face.</p><p>“One of the youngest ones to master hydromancy, yes, and now attempting polymorphism. Incredible, yes,” Gerhart mumbled under his breath, nodding to himself before gesturing for the boy behind him to step forward. “Right, yes. I almost forgot. Tissaia, I wanted to introduce you to a student of mine, Bastian of Ellander. Bastian is the nephew of the Duke of Ellander.”</p><p>The boy was thin and wiry, slightly shorter than Philippa, and his complexion pale and sickly. Green eyes skipped about nervously, settling on his feet most of the time, and fingers rubbed and fidgeted with the loose sheets of papers in his hand. He bowed deeply to each of the sorceresses and took a step back, moving to stand behind his professor.</p><p>“Bastian, my boy, I have some Chapter business to discuss with Madame de Vries. Why don’t you escort Lady Eilhart to her quarters?”</p><p>“Yes, sir.”</p><p>“If it’s alright with you,” Philippa interjected quietly, “I was hoping to take advantage of your resources in the library to do some further research on polymorphism. I hear the Ban Ard archives contains the only known record of polymorphism in Kaedwan.”</p><p>“Of course, of course, you are most welcome to do so. Consider everything in Ban Ard to be at your disposal. Bastian will guide you there.” Gerhart beamed at Philippa. “Bastian, my boy, off you go. Whatever our guest needs. Yes? Good.” He gave Bastian a pat on his shoulder before starting to steer Tissaia towards the door with surprising strength. “So resourceful, isn’t she? And so talented. You must be so proud.”</p><p>Philippa stared after them, still trying to process what Gerhart had said about Tissaia.</p><p>“Lady Eilhart,” she returned her attention to the boy, who looked no older than fifteen years of age, and who was fighting the urge to flinch under her gaze, “if uh, you would like to follow me.”</p><p>“Please.”</p><p>Bastian led her up the stairs to the back of the hall, pushing past the heavy oaken doors to the main staircase of the main building. They descended down to the atrium and exited to the courtyard, stepping out into the sunlight. The courtyard was paved in stone and surrounded by towering stone walls on all sides, the snow capped mountains rising in the distance to peak over them. Philippa vaguely wondered if this was what Kaer Morhen looked like.</p><p>“The archives are just on the other side of the grounds, so-”</p><p>Bastian stumbled over his words and over his feet as an unruly group of boys barged past him, one of them slapping the back of his head hard whilst the others jeered and whistled.</p><p>And while it was pathetic watching a member of nobility acting so timid and meek and allowing himself to be pushed around like a leaf in the wind, it was even more pathetic watching the bullies ganging up on one who was clearly unwilling to fight back. A withering glare from Philippa was enough to cause the bullies to back off, even if they scurried away with false bravado, hollering obscenities and abuse.</p><p>“I apologise that you had to see that,” Bastian said, rubbing the back of his neck.</p><p>“Why do you let them treat you like that?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Bastian admitted in a low voice, eyes softening. “Maybe it’s just easier for me to bear the pain than to inflict it.” The lilt of his Temerian accent grew more pronounced with the weight of his words, a lingering sadness wrapping itself around them. “The world does not need more conflict or violence.”</p><p>“Perhaps,” Philippa mused, “but I would not equate defending oneself to inciting or provoking violence.” Bastian cracked a grin at her words. “You are fighting for yourself, not fighting against them.”</p><p>They fell silent, each mulling over the conversation that had just transpired as their feet carried them all the way to the fields in front of the archives. A dusty circular dirt track carved through the green grass and Philippa soon realised its purpose when the thundering of hooves grew louder; it seemed like riding and horse racing was part of the curriculum at Ban Ard.</p><p>The galloping horses raced past them, churning up mud and sending small stones and dust flying in all directions. A particularly large mount caused a shower of pebbles to whip towards them at an angle but they were stopped in their tracks by the smallest air current conjured with a flick of Bastian’s wrist, almost imperceptible to the untrained eye, and they dropped harmlessly onto the ground after a beat.</p><p>Philippa’s gaze slipped down to the boy’s hands, noting that his fingers had stilled their absent fidgeting.</p><p>“The stables are just to the side, I can arrange a horse for you if you would prefer not to walk back to your quarters.” He held the doors to the archive open for her. “And we’ve arrived. Let me show you to the records section.”</p><p>“Bastian.”</p><p>He paused, trying to decipher the questioning tone to her half-command.</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>“Being a sorcerer,” Tissaia’s words echoed in her head, the weight of her disappointment clinging to Philippa’s pride stubbornly, “what is it that you want?”</p><p>“Um, I do quite enjoy the study of alchemy and I seem to have a knack for aerokinesis, or so my instructor says, though I’m not sure what use that will be for future career prospects,” Bastian said drily, grinning at Philippa’s reaction to his uncharacteristic display of humour. “But I think we can both agree that politics most definitely does not suit me, even if my uncle prefers to keep it in the family.”</p><p>Philippa watched the smile reach his eyes, warmer and softer than a summer’s breeze. The fact that his fingers had started tapping nervously against the papers in his hand did not go unnoticed.</p><p>They descended down a flight of stairs, stopping at a door at the very end of the narrow corridor.</p><p>“If I may be so bold to ask, Lady Eilhart, what will you do?” He asked, unlocking the door with a calculated twist of his wrist.</p><p>“It is a fair question, considering I did ask you first.”</p><p>The door swung open to reveal an alcove filled with shelves of papers and books neatly categorised and filed. Her eyes started scanning the records as she moved along the length of the shelves slowly.</p><p>“I believe my talents would be well suited to that of a royal advisor.”</p><p>She could feel his gaze on her as he retreated into a contemplative silence, could almost hear the dawning understanding in his voice.</p><p>“You want to change the world.”</p><p>Philippa stopped in her tracks, a finger poised on the spine of the book she had been searching for.</p><p>“I do,” she murmured with a genuine smile.</p><p>It was an answer so simple yet so complex, one so obvious but one she had yet to fully understand.</p><p>It was an answer Tissaia had known all along.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Loyalty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>“Feel like I’m circling a drain, all I see is the remains of an ugly truth.” - Otherside</em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span class="u">Year 1064</span>
  </em>
</p><p>Philippa was so engrossed in the tome she was reading that the faint buzzing was little but white noise to her. But when the buzzing grew louder, she chose to ignore it until Sheala cleared her throat noisily.</p><p>“Will you not answer or have you simply gone deaf?”</p><p>Philippa did not look up from the text, her quill continuing to fly across the parchment.</p><p>“If only.”</p><p>The buzzing stopped for a few seconds before resuming.</p><p>Scowling, Philippa placed down her quill and marched over to her megascope. The translucent image of Tissaia De Vries flickered into existence.</p><p>“Tissaia,” Philippa greeted with a hint of surprise, “to what do I owe the pleasure?”</p><p>Being a sorceress was a full time occupation and lifelong career, but Philippa had been granted special dispensation from her court duties and Council duties for a few months to engage in a collaborated research with Sheala. Understandably, Philippa was slightly miffed that her work was being interrupted but then again, something must had gone quite wrong for Tissaia to reach out.</p><p>Tissaia folded her hands in front of her, drawing herself to her full height.</p><p>“I apologise for the intrusion, Philippa, but the Chapter requires your urgent assistance with a certain matter.” Tissaia’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, lips drawing tighter before she continued. “I trust you are familiar with the Temarian civil war?”</p><p>“I am.”</p><p>“How soon can you return to Temaria?”</p><p>“I can be there by tomorrow,” Philippa said with a tilt of her head, “but won’t you at least tell me what’s so urgent that so specifically requires <em>my</em> attention?”</p><p>Tissaia’s voice remained calm and even, her face impassive but Philippa could sense the flash of displeasure rippling underneath before Tissaia smothered it with practised ease.</p><p>“It would be better if we did this face to face.”</p><p>“I see. I will see you tomorrow then.”</p><p>Tissaia disappeared from view and Philippa let out a sigh as she turned towards Sheala.</p><p>“It appears I am needed in Temaria,” Philippa said in lieu of an apology.</p><p>“Now you understand why I’m seriously considering resigning from the Council.” A wry smile tugged at her lips and Sheala said teasingly, “after all, I can leave the world-saving in your capable hands.”</p><p>“The world doesn’t need saving.”</p><p>“Evidently it does, otherwise they wouldn’t be dragging you back into the fray so soon. Try not to take too long this time, yes?”</p><p>Philippa grimaced at the jibe.</p><p>“I hope this time things will go a lot more smoothly than the last debacle. Tissaia spent an entire week lecturing me about it. I don’t think she’s forgotten about it yet.”</p><p>Sheala hummed in agreement.</p><p>“You’ll find out soon enough.”</p><p>“And I’ll be back soon enough.” Philippa called out as she strode through the doors.</p><p>She wouldn’t see Sheala until two years later.</p>
<hr/><p>“Lady Eilhart.”</p><p>Even though the timbre of his voice had grown much deeper and richer, his tongue curled around her name with fond familiarity, slow and smooth, his telltale accent slipping into the quiet click of consonants. His hazel eyes were as soft as she remembered, his smile ever so gentle, but he was no longer the lanky boy she had first met almost a century ago, nervous and shaking as Gerhart of Aelle had dragged him to the front of the lecture hall to introduce the nephew of the Duke of Ellander to the visitors from Aretuza. His appearance now was that of a young man in his mid-thirties, so immensely tall and broad shouldered, dressed in mage’s robes of navy blue with the Ellander coat of arms embroidered in silver.</p><p>But neither was he the man she had run into decades ago.</p><p>Almost as if he had been reading her thoughts, his lips quirked up with a playfulness that was both nostalgic and rusty and the words rumbled in his chest.</p><p>“It’s been a while since we last saw each other.”</p><p>“Eighty years, if I recall correctly.”</p><p>“Has it really?”</p><p>He stared at her thoughtfully as if searching for something. Then he smiled and reached out tentatively, the images and colours of his memory bleeding into her mind when she granted him permission.</p><p>
  <em>The main library at Oxenfurt Academy was one of the largest in the Continent, rivalled only by the archives at the Imperial Academy in Nilfgaard, harbouring some of the most ancient texts and scholarly materials from all over the world compiled over centuries. The library was eerily quiet, with the students and staff having departed for the holidays upon the conclusion of the school year, and the soft clicking of heels echoed like gunshots around the vast area, amplified by the dome. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He glanced over his shoulder, peering down at the rows of shelves on the ground floor that seemed to stretch endlessly and the woman wandering along the middle row, past sections upon sections on poetry, astrology, philosophy and history. She climbed the spiral staircase slowly up to the alchemy section, fingers sliding along the leather spines of the tomes until she spotted the book she was looking for on the top shelf. It was a bit out of her reach and she looked around seemingly for a stepladder before returning her gaze to the book, no doubt contemplating whether to just levitate it off the shelf.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He rounded the bookshelf and reached over her shoulder, plucking the book from its place and handing it to her.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“The Tome on Components and Crafting of Crystals by Aarhenius Krantz,” he mused softly. “Slightly outdated but comprehensive. What is it that you are researching, Lady Eilhart?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She took the book with a murmured thanks, regarding him with curious eyes. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Do I know you?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A bashful expression crept across his features.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I was your guide briefly when you accompanied Madam De Vries to the Ban Ard Academy during her visit as a guest lecturer. That was a long time ago, when I was still a student there.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Her eyebrows hiked up in surprise. </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Bastian of Ellander, I remember you.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He smiled.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m honoured.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“And are you now in the service of your uncle? I’m afraid that with the civil war between Ellander and Maribor, it has been a bit difficult keeping up with the inner workings of the Temarian courts.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He shook his head and gestured almost shyly in explanation. “Not yet. I’ve been travelling all over Temeria since I graduated a few years ago. Trying to compile a compendium on alchemy ingredients.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I see,” Philippa nodded. She brushed the dust from the heavy tome in her hands. “And as for your earlier question, I am looking into potential new magical uses of crystals, such as storage of magic for use in emergency situations. But so far, the crystals have not yielded much results.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“In that case, this one,” he pressed another book into her hands – The Encyclopedia on Dust, Shards and Crystals and Precious Stones, “may be more useful. It’s worth experimenting with different mixtures of dust for the crafting of crystals. Stammelford’s Dust is particularly effective in altering the compressive stress of the crystal. Although you may wish to consider the use of precious stones instead of crystal; the density of the precious stones means a larger amount of magic can be compressed within it. I think at one point sorcerers were thinking of continuously channelling and storing magic in precious stones to cultivate tissues.”</em>
</p><p>“Correct as always, Lady Eilhart. Almost eighty years ago.”</p><p>His name had been virtually unknown within the mages’ circle until a few years ago, when the ailing Duke of Ellander had passed away, leaving his teenage son to assume command. Taking advantage of the change of guard, the Duke of Maribor had renewed their war with Ellander over the empty throne of Temeria vacated by the heirless King Advank when he had been assassinated almost two centuries ago. Under the command of the young Duke Konrad, the Ellanderian army had been on the brink of capitulation. But then the tides of fortunes had changed, coinciding with the appointment of an unknown sorcerer as court mage and general, his fearsome destructive abilities and unconventional war tactics breathing new life and hope into the Ellanderian army.</p><p>“I remember that day well,” Philippa said.</p><p>“Simpler times.” Bastian commented, folding his arms across the expanse of his chest and perching on the edge of the wooden cabinet. “You’ve been very busy since then. You’ve come a long way since we last saw each other.”</p><p>“I could say the same for you.”</p><p>Finally, he took a deep breath, peering at her from under long lashes, and continued. “When the Chapter sent word that they wanted to help mediate between Ellander and Maribor, I did not think they would send the youngest member of the Council to talk to the court mage. Although I suppose congratulations are in order.”</p><p>If it had come from anyone else, Philippa would have taken it as a slight on her experience and her abilities, but there was no scorn in his tone, no arrogance in his eyes – there was only respect and pride, even if it was tinted by a wariness harboured for reasons she had yet to uncover.</p><p>Philippa gave a wry smile. “The Brotherhood only has authority over mages. It is only appropriate that we liaise with the court mage. It helps that the Duke listens to your counsel, of course.”</p><p>“And what outcome does the Chapter desire?”</p><p>“A ceasefire for starters. An outbreak of the plague is sweeping across the north of Temaria and there is a famine spreading in the west. Temarian resources would be better utilised combating these events than in warring with each other.”</p><p>His hand drifted towards the dagger at his side and Philippa eyed his movements warily. Bastian had no reason to attack her but she had learnt never to underestimate a fellow mage, especially a war general.</p><p>“And this is neither the first nor the last time a plague or a famine has broken out in Temaria. This war has been fought for two centuries and Ellander and Maribor have always looked after their own allied territories. This is no different.” His fingers rubbed against the polished hilt of his dagger absently. “Ellander has the upper hand in this war right now and a ceasefire would only dull all momentum gained. We cannot stop now.”</p><p>“Maribor is willing to offer land and-”</p><p>“Maribor,” he growled lowly, “is buying time. And…” He paused for a beat, realisation clicking in his head, “perhaps something more. But you know this already.”</p><p>It had not been difficult for Philippa to come to the same conclusion that Bastian had, with the Chapter opting to send the youngest Council member to Ellander in place of his old school master, who had instead been sent to Maribor. Whilst Ellander was sheltered by the natural borders of Mahakam and the Pontar, Maribor’s stability was crucial to the trade network running through Brugge and Sodden. More importantly for the Brotherhood, such stability would preserve the balance of powers among the Northern kingdoms, especially as the Chapter would choose the mage to be appointed to the court of Maribor in return for their aid. It didn’t hurt that they would also be afforded certain privileges in respect of trade and border movements.</p><p>He huffed out a laugh of disbelief, shaking his head, brows furrowed.</p><p>Philippa took a step towards him.</p><p>“Agree to the ceasefire. Then Ellander and Maribor can discuss this over mediation.”</p><p>He turned away from her with a grimace and stared out at the garden of the ducal palace, the dagger now in his hands, the tip resting against his fingertip as he twisted the hilt distractedly.</p><p>“I don’t believe this is what you envisioned you would be doing when you said you wanted to change the world.”</p><p>“It wasn’t,” Philippa retorted, “and it isn’t. Change is a process that has to run its course and sometimes, you get to set that course. Sometimes you don’t, and all you can do is watch as progress happens, however the chips may fall.”</p><p>“And sometimes, change and control go hand in hand. Sometimes, one is the sole alternative to the other.”</p><p>He exhaled slowly, turning around once more, his gaze still fixated on his dagger.</p><p>The dagger had an ornately decorated flat-ring slotted below the handle and a wide medial ridge running along its length, engravings on both sides of the ridge although Philippa could not make out the words.</p><p>“You know not what you ask of me.”</p><p>He shook his head with a sad smile. There was hurtful regret in his voice and resigned understanding in his eyes, because a part of him had always known, had always accepted that he could fight tooth and nail and the world would still push back twice as hard, unyielding and uncompromising.</p><p>“This is my family’s birthright, their legacy. I never had any intention or ambitions to engage in politics or warfare,” he coughed out the last word with a laugh, “but when my uncle died, his son was only twelve. I had to – It was my duty to fight for him, for his bloodline. I could not just stand by and watch my family’s legacy be destroyed or watch my people be slaughtered. I am honour bound.” He took a breath, steadying himself. “All I have is my loyalty to my cause, and you are asking me to walk away from it all or fight a battle designed for us to lose. You ask too much, Lady Eilhart.”</p><p>There was no bargaining or pleading. They both knew that there was nothing save for the relinquishment of the Duke’s claim to the throne that would end the war.</p><p>Philippa moved to stand beside him and they shared in the comfortable silence. He was heads taller than her, easily dwarfing her in size, but despite the spirit in his eyes and the steel in his spine, she could still see glimpses of the small, nervous boy underneath it all, in all his gentleness and generosity.</p><p>They had both been gifted in their own way but had ultimately traversed different paths, be it because of the cards they were dealt or a result of their deliberate choices. But fate had determined that their paths would converge now only for the two of them to stand on opposite sides, fighting a fight that wasn’t really theirs to fight.</p><p>“The first time we met, you told me the world did not need more conflict or violence.”</p><p>A flicker of a smile passed between them.</p><p>“And that remains true. But I have come to the realisation that sometimes, the only way to end violence is with violence, to fight fire with fire. It’s taken me almost a century, but I’m here now and this war is finally drawing to a close.” He shifted, shoulders curving into himself instinctively. “But the Brotherhood will not allow this to pass. Surely you see what is happening?”</p><p>He possessed the physical build of a seasoned warrior, holding violence within his frame and powers of devastation in his calloused hands. But there was no anger, no hate within him – there was only steel in his eyes, conviction in his heart and an unshakeable weight of duty on his shoulders.</p><p>“Bastian-”</p><p>“I will relay your message to the Duke,” he interrupted, sheathing his dagger with a tired sigh, “although I’m sure you already know the answer.”</p><p>“I can guess,” Philippa said quietly.</p><p>A low chuckle slipped past his lips before his smile melted away once more. With a small shake of his head, he turned to Philippa.</p><p>“I don’t know how tenable it is for someone of your position on the Council,” his eyes crinkled with uncertainty and the shadows under his eyes seemed more pronounced than ever, “but if the Brotherhood will not be swayed in their decision, I sincerely hope we never meet on the battlefield.”</p><p>Philippa returned his gaze.</p><p>“I will do what I can.”</p>
<hr/><p>“This war has been raging for two centuries. Did you really expect any answer other than the one given?”</p><p>“You were our best bet.”</p><p>Philippa’s eyes flashed with indignation.</p><p>“Tell me, was this what I had signed up for with the Council?”</p><p>She couldn’t fault the Chapter for sending her to meet Bastian, considering their prior relationship, but the whole thing had played out like a manipulation sprung on her out of nowhere. Greed, politics, blood and war – everything stank of corruption.</p><p>Tapping her pipe against the ash tray, Tissaia took a long drag of her pipe and exhaled slowly. The smoke curled around her in one single lazy motion – a smokescreen, Philippa thought to herself – and for a brief second, she looked fatigued, not quite so invincible.</p><p>“You are still young, Philippa. You’re ambitious and idealistic but you don’t see the bigger picture.”</p><p>Philippa bristled at the condescension in Tissaia’s voice, feeling like a novice being lectured by her Rectoress once again.</p><p>“I see it but clearly my vision differs from that of the Brotherhood’s. The Brotherhood seeks to preserve the balance of powers, to maintain the status quo by colluding with the kingdom who offers the best advantages.”</p><p>Tissaia scoffed lightly, shaking her head.</p><p>“We work within the political confines of the Northern Kingdoms-”</p><p>“Maybe the Brotherhood should push beyond those restraints and traverse these man made boundaries. Why preserve this arbitrary equilibrium? To serve monarchs and sate their desire for power? Or to boost our own reputation and standing?”</p><p>“Maintaining this balance equates to maintaining the peace. And we can only do that if we have the necessary influence over the realms. Yes, certain concessions and compromises have to be made but that is a reality we have to accept. Even magic has its limits.”</p><p>Philippa let out an incredulous laugh.</p><p>“You accept limitations set by others-”</p><p>“Then take control yourself. Change the world if you are in a position to so.”</p><p>She wasn’t sure if this was a rebuff or a challenge by her mentor; Tissaia had always had a way to sound both dismissive and as if she were teaching her at the same time.</p><p>There was nothing Philippa could do at the moment – she neither had the political clout in the Redanian court to influence Temarian matters, nor did she have the influence in the Brotherhood to change what the Chapter had already decided – but Tissaia’s words struck a chord, as did Bastian’s.</p><p>It was something Philippa would have to rectify in due course, but for now, Council duties dictated her actions.</p><p>The faintest smile ghosted across Tissaia’s features when Philippa’s eyes steeled with resolute realisation. Philippa made to stand up and leave when Tissaia spoke up again.</p><p>“There is one more matter, which I am asking in my capacity as Rectoress of Aretuza.”</p><p>Philippa stilled with curiousity.</p><p>“You were one of my best students, a once in a century talent.” The musky scent of tobacco filled the room when Tissaia exhaled again. “I handpicked you to be my apprentice and now, I would like for you to do the same.” She slid a list of names towards Philippa. “Impart your wisdom. Nurture and teach them as I did with you.”</p><p>Philippa did not take on apprentices – she did not have the time or patience to mentor impressionable young girls and the benefits hardly ever outweighed the efforts required.</p><p>“I’m not much of a teacher, Tissaia, and I’ve got too much on my plate at the moment to take on an apprentice.”</p><p>“Embrace the responsibility and duty that comes with someone of your position and your talents.” Tissaia stood up slowly, placing both hands on the table. “You may not always agree with the Brotherhood’s decisions, but the Brotherhood is your family. They are your people – these novices who will one day become mages are your people. Give it some thought and choose an apprentice.”</p><p>Philippa gave Tissaia a wry smile. The Brotherhood was not her family, but she would humour her Rectoress for old time’s sake.</p><p>“I’ll think about it.”</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>“They held me down, let me drown, they spit me out right through the teeth. Watching me bleed, you cut me down on my knees.” – Blame It On Me</em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span class="u">Year 1076</span>
  </em>
</p><p>Ellander had taken all the northern and eastern territories and was slowly expanding into the areas near the western borders. Their tactic was obvious – they would chip away at Maribor’s control over the western and southern territories until they had completely surrounded Maribor, forcing Maribor’s surrender and an end to the war.</p><p>Whilst Maribor had the advantage in numbers, Ellander had superior battle tactics, at times harrowing and harassing them, and at times overwhelming them with nothing but brute force and an unshakeable willpower.</p><p>To the west, the Mariborian troops chased shadows amongst the eerie mist of the swamps and bogs of Velen, wading through waist deep waters that were stagnant and murky as small groups of Ellander forces slipped between the withering trees and long grass, faces masked with mud and dirt. Maribor lost two squadrons on the first day – one retreating from an ambush without realising that they were being herded towards quicksand until they were trapped, and another stumbling into a drowner’s den after a wild goose chase. They lost another squadron to nekkers the next day and the remaining troops regrouped into a single unit only to be led into the thickets of the swamps, vines and branches and weeds entangling them the more they struggled, before the poisonous gas suffocated them if the pockets of flammable gas hadn’t managed to burn them to death. The last remnants of the troops sent to Velen had been scattered across the bogs and marshes, but they were ignorant of the dangers that lurked around them, too accustomed to grand battles in the open plains surrounding Maribor, and during the night, with each campfire lit and each deafening crack of twigs and dry leaves, monsters and men alike came and picked them off one by one under the cover of darkness.</p><p>To the south, a Maribor battalion took a stand at the rolling plains against an Ellander battalion half its size. But the Ellanderian army came armed with more than swords and halberds, and the bombs crafted by their alchemist general wreaked havoc on the battlefield, igniting the plains with sweeping wildfires and raining crystal shrapnel down upon the Mariborians. Ellanderian archers slung bottles of turquoise dust across the battlefield before letting loose arrows, shattering them and showering the dust over the Mariborian troops. Battle cries morphed into agonised screams as the dust reacted with metal and turned into acid, burning through armour within seconds.</p><p>They were not afforded any time to rest or regroup as walls of wind slammed into the Mariborian soldiers, knocking them over like ragdolls and clearing the way for a giant of a man to stride into the centre of their battalion, air crackling around his fists with the sound of cracking glass.</p><p>The air around him stilled, thick and heavy, before being pulled in like a vacuum suddenly and exploding outward, the shockwave cracking the earth and blasting the soldiers in his proximity far and wide. Swinging out with his other hand in a hurling motion, the men still standing dropped like flies as the highly pressurised air penetrated their armour like bullets.</p><p>It only took two hours for Ellander to take the Golden Plains.</p>
<hr/><p>“Thank you, Philippa.”</p><p>Philippa bit back a retort and swept from the room quickly.</p><p>
  <em>What can you tell us about Bastian of Ellander?</em>
</p><p>The champion of Ellander had turned the civil war on its head, sweeping Temeria like a storm, and Maribor had requested magical aid from the Brotherhood, unable to cope with the constant assault from its rival. But even with the additional mages sent to assist Maribor, the war had stalled and the status quo remained stagnant.</p><p>
  <em>I believe Master Gerhart would be more familiar with him considering he was his mentor at Ban Ard Academy.</em>
</p><p>Simply put, the Chapter had made a mistake throwing their weight behind one party when they had not made plans to ensure its success. In fact, their reasoning for backing Maribor was flawed and incentivised by petty and selfish greed and now their involvement only served to perpetuate the war.</p><p>
  <em>He hasn’t seen him ever since he graduated.</em>
</p><p>Though Philippa was not privy to the Chapter’s meetings, it was unfathomable that Tissaia would have supported such a notion.</p><p>What had Maribor really offered the other members of the Chapter?</p><p>“Philippa.”</p><p>She turned to see Gerhart plodding after her. All this recent talk of war and politics was starting to take its toll on him and the accumulated years were beginning to show in the stiffness in his joints and the ache in his bones, the shadows under his eyes a stark contrast to the paleness of his skin.</p><p>“Walk with me,” he said, more a question than a request, and she complied, the two of them continuing on together at a leisurely place.</p><p>She didn’t know if this was part of Gerhart’s ploy to interrogate her alone but there was nothing else she could say that the Chapter had not already gleaned from the earlier session.</p><p>The silence dragged on until they reached the courtyard before Philippa finally asked.</p><p>“Is there anything I can help you with, Master Gerhart?”</p><p>“He was always a gifted boy, you know. Always had a thirst for knowledge, especially alchemy.” Gerhart said with a gentle smile and a faraway look in his eye. “He was lacking in confidence but never in heart.”</p><p>The boy with an inexplicable love for alchemy, who had spent years travelling across his kingdom to fulfil his dream of compiling the first book on Temerian alchemy ingredients; the boy who possessed an exceptional talent in the destructive arts and yet loathed violence with an equivalent passion.</p><p>Gerhart slowed to a halt and turned to Philippa with tired eyes. “I sense your displeasure, Philippa, but your old Rectoress and I were outvoted on this matter. My hands are tied.”</p><p>It was in the quiet sigh following his words and the downcast tilt of his head, that she was starting to see the extent of the corruption that was festering within the Brotherhood like a rotting disease and the power it wielded within the shadows. And it was in the hurt tucked away in his dark eyes, overshadowed by resignation and regret, that she saw his helplessness laid bare.</p><p>“I have a favour to ask of you. The Brotherhood has sent further aid to Maribor to try to change the tide of the war, but they are also looking to send an envoy to…keep tabs on the situation.” He raised a silencing hand when Philippa looked to interrupt him, “I cannot take up that position. It would attract too much attention for me to travel to Temeria, no matter what my intentions are. But I would very much like it if you were to be the Brotherhood’s representative, to do whatever you deem fit so long as it does not contradict the Chapter’s agenda.”</p><p>Openly at least.</p><p>“Why me?”</p><p>“Because you do not agree with this war but you are pragmatic and you get things done. And my boy,” he swallowed hard, “I know that you will do right by him. He trusts you.”</p><p>A faint shadow appeared at the window above her, the figure obscured by the translucent drapes. But Philippa could recognise that regal posture anywhere – head held high and shoulders drawn back, hands clasped in front of her.</p><p>“As does Tissaia,” Gerhart commented, following her gaze. “She was the one who nominated you, after all.”</p><p>Surprise curled in her chest even though her face remained impassive.</p><p>“Did she now?”</p><p>The silhouette wavered and faded under their stares and Philippa returned her gaze to Gerhart.</p><p>There was so much tenderness in his voice and care in his eyes, pained yet laced with hope, and a little part of her couldn’t help but wonder if her relationship with Tissaia mirrored any part of Gerhart’s relationship with Bastian. Philippa had always been quite adept at reading people, but Tissaia was notoriously difficult to read. Did her old mentor speak of her with the same pride and fondness Gerhart held for Bastian? And if the tables were turned, if Philippa was the one fighting for a cause that did not align with the Brotherhood’s position, would Tissaia understand? Or would she stand by as Philippa was condemned to damnation by the corrupt and the arbitrary?</p><p>But then again, another part of her knew the answer.</p><p>Philippa glanced once more at the window, noting the slight fluttering of the drapes.</p><p>“I shall set off for Maribor in a week’s time,” she acquiesced. “There are certain matters that I need to take care of first.”</p><p>She dispatched a messenger to Ellander the next day, extending an invitation for negotiations. This time, she didn’t receive a reply.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>
    <span class="u">Year 1077</span>
  </em>
</p><p>Philippa stood among the wreckage that was once the village of Relev.</p><p>One of the Temerian generals had sent word back to her that they had finally cornered the elusive sorcerer of Ellander there together with a small squadron of men. Philippa had made the two day journey as fast as she could only to be greeted by the sight of nothing but charred rubble and ash and twenty Maribor soldiers.</p><p>The heat still radiated from the scorched earth and each step she took kicked up dust and ash. The entire village had been torched to the ground, leaving naught but crushed stone and blackened wood. There was a distinctive lack of corpses or burnt metal save for one lifeless body impaled on the trunk of a snapped tree.</p><p>Philippa stepped closer.</p><p>There were no burn marks on him but every inch of his skin was shredded by cuts, his torso laying at the root of the tree and nearly snapped in half by the force of the impalement, almost as if dropped from a great height.</p><p>The man’s face was distorted into a grotesque expression of agony and fear but she recognised him – Xavier of Garramone, a reckless warmongering sorcerer with an affinity for violence.</p><p>Grimacing at the sight of bloody guts hanging from the tree trunk, Philippa whipped around and snapped at one of the soldiers.</p><p>“Report. Now.”</p><p>The soldier saluted stiffly, nearly dropping his halberd.</p><p>“L-lady Eilhart. We-”</p><p>Philippa cut him off with a silencing hand, head snapping towards one of the crumbling stone houses at the edge of the village. The faintest ripple of chaos brushed against the periphery of her senses, flickering and wavering like a dying breeze.</p><p>“You and your men will stay where you are. Is that understood?” She snarled.</p><p>“Y-yes, my Lady.”</p><p>She drew upon her magic, feeling it gather at her fingertips before she moved towards the source. The pulse of the magic had faded by the time she ducked under the sloping entrance into the house and her heart sank at the familiar drawl of her name.</p><p>The roof of the house had collapsed and the stone debris was crushing his left leg. His left arm hung limply, most likely dislocated from smashing into the wall, and his right hand was clenched around his silver dagger. There was blood dripping from his nose and running down the side of his face from a particularly nasty looking gash. He looked up at her with an amused smile.</p><p>“What do you know,” Bastian gasped between shallow breaths, “we meet again.”</p><p>Philippa knelt in front of him.</p><p>“What happened?”</p><p>Bastian swallowed painfully, eyelids drooping bit by bit, his grip on the dagger loosening little by little.</p><p>He was dying and they both knew it.</p><p>“We were ambushed here. The sorcerer summoned a storm of fireballs, decided that the villagers were collateral damage. I held on until they could get out with my men, but I didn’t have enough magic to get out myself.”</p><p>Bastian choked out a mirthless laugh even as tears trickled from the corner of his eyes, leaving clear streaks along his dust-covered face.</p><p>If he had saved himself from the barrage and let his men and the villagers die, he could have slaughtered his enemies easily. But despite his loyalty and conviction, his heart had never fully followed; he who had craved knowledge but forced to use it for war, who unleashed destruction and chaos for his liege, would in return die protecting his people; he who had rationalised every decision and ultimately could not suppress his heart – he had faltered because the weight had been too much to bear, because conviction and loyalty alone were not enough.</p><p>And for that, Ellander would lose the war.</p><p>Philippa could hear the rattling in his chest with each breath he took as the fluid slowly filled his lungs. His right hand twitched and the dagger slipped from his grasp.</p><p>“Will you-”</p><p>She picked up the dagger and her fingers brushed over the words engraved there – trust, loyalty, duty.</p><p>But had it been a cause worth dying for?</p><p>Hazel eyes locked with onyx ones, the tears catching in his throat even as his lips quivered upwards.</p><p>“I would have liked to see the world you want to create, Philippa.”</p><p>“As would I.”</p><p>Philippa placed a hand over his chest, her grip tightening around the dagger in an effort to keep her hand from trembling.</p><p>“I’ll leave you to it then,” he murmured.</p><p>“Alright.”</p><p>“I’m tired.”</p><p>His last breath escaped his lips in a quiet sigh as the dagger pierced his heart.</p><p>“I am too.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The Temarian civil war is basically the War of Daggers, as per the Witcher wikipedia. Also yes, Philippa keeps Bastian's dagger, which I based off on the dagger she had in TW2.</p><p>It's slow yeah but I'm thinking Triss will show up around Chapter 4?</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The first chapter is a bit slow and short but I hope to be able to explore Philippa's relationship with Tissaia a bit more in the coming chapters.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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